Dark Duck 05: Wisteria
by VAPX007
Summary: Reginald stared at the fateful transmitter invention, sitting on the trolley opposite him in the kitchenette. Not for one second had he guessed such a result was possible. How could life be so unfair? Bushroot's POV only. *COMPLETE* Happy Valentines!
1. Wisteria

_I disclaim ownership of the Darkwing Duck staple characters._

_I give warning for any side effects that may arise directly or indirectly from reading my stories. Of course, there won't be any proof to lay the blame on _me_._

_No actual parsley plants were harmed in the making of this episode._

* * *

**Wisteria**

* * *

Reginald stared at the fateful transmitter invention, sitting on the trolley opposite him in the kitchenette. Not for one second had he guessed such a result was possible.

There was a sound of shaking of leaves approaching the doorway.  
"There you are." The giant Wisteria bush crammed through the doorway. "I don't know why I put up with you as much as I do. You're pathetic."  
He jumped up, shaking. "I'm not! Give me a chance, I-I'll do something. Prove I'm good enough for you!"

The huge shape of Wisteria blocked out almost all the light as she towered over him. "You? What are you going to do, start selling fruit on the sidewalk? Rob another stupid jewellery store? Please." She swung her branches wide, knocking him backwards against the wall. "Why don't you face it, you have nothing any woman could want."  
"But ... I made you ... Wisteria ... we're ... we're the same!"

"You're a waste of water, have you seen those bills?" She picked up a rates notice from the table.  
"I ... don't drink anymore than you do. Perhaps ... maybe a different brand of ferti-"  
"Get out! I don't want any more fertilizer, I want peace and quiet. All you do is talk, I'm ... fed ... up."  
"Okay! I'll come back in ..." She picked up a pot of parsley seedlings sitting on the windowsill and threw it at him. He ducked and it crashed behind him.

"Get out!" She screamed at him. Reginald scrabbled to a stand and bolted for the door.

* * *

Reginald sobbed as he ran as fast as he could from his greenhouse. Successfully adding intelligence to a plant, and Wisteria turned out to be incredibly spiteful. He moaned. How could life be so unfair?

Something rushed past Reginald. He twisted about and something was glimmering before him. "What is that?" But he didn't have a chance to discover the answer. Darkwing Duck tore around the corner in pursuit and crashed headlong into Reginald. Together they tumbled through the glimmer.

They crashed onto the ground in pitch black. Darkwing scrabbled away from him, and a moment later he had a bright torchlight in his face.  
"Bushroot." It was a moment, and Darkwing shone the light away, surveying the darkness.

* * *

"We're trapped in some sort of cavern." Darkwing considered.

Reginald meanwhile considered Darkwing's total lack of scariness in this place. The instant his attention fell elsewhere, Reginald had felt empowered. For once in what seemed ages, nobody was being mean to him. Then another horrid thought crept into his mind. "You don't think I'm a threat?"

"Well, I hardly think you should be, we're both trapped down here together, we'll need each other's help to get out." Darkwing paused. "Assuming you want to get out of this cavern. No light ever comes down here; that means you'd starve. Also, considering that you have no backup, no. I don't think you're much of a threat at this moment."

Reginald stood up. Darkwing Duck wasn't anything very special. He had a mass of tricks and training, he was physically able, emotionally psyched for battle, and had a few little conjuring tricks for showmanship. Comparing to Reginald, however, Darkwing Duck was just a duck.

The crime fighter took a step away and Reginald jumped him, coiling his vines around him.

* * *

Darkwing Duck struggled but Reginald just increased his grip on him.

"You'll die without light down here, Bushroot." Darkwing said quietly as Reginald stared at him with all his bottled emotions.  
"I thought you said you had a way out."  
"It's not like it's a secret, Bushroot. I can't just tell you and then you'll be free."

"What made you think I thought that? I may be part plant, but I'm not stupid. I just caught you!" It felt very empowering, to outmatch Darkwing Duck, alone. But Wisteria would still hate him, and after he killed Darkwing; then what?

Then nothing. Reginald sighed and let Darkwing go. "What a trivial thing it is after all." He frowned as Darkwing pointed his gas gun at him.  
Then the crime fighter lowered his weapon again. "What's trivial?"  
"The fight between us is trivial. And it never ends."

"It isn't trivial to me. When you commit crimes, you endanger others. You take away other peoples freedom, their rights, like the person who threw us through this portal. They just don't care about our wellbeing."

Darkwing turned away, "this direction looks promising, let's try this way."

* * *

Darkwing took a single step when out of the darkness came miniature snarls.

"What are they?"

"Garden gnomes?" Darkwing shone his torch, "Uh, no, try goblins!" He fired his gas gun, a net expanded, sweeping over a section of them, he reloaded the gas gun but hesitated. The goblins were closing in all around them. "Sleep tight." He fired the grenade near their feet and swept up his cape, covering the two of them, protecting Reginald and himself from inhaling the sleeping gas. "Okay." He said after a few moments of silence. "Come on." He pulled away from Reginald, and in the gloom of Darkwing's torch, he saw the horde of goblins fast asleep. "Watch your step."

"I didn't think ..."  
"Shh!"  
They put some distance between them and the goblins. "I didn't think those sorts of creatures were real."  
"They're charmed to be a perimeter defence. I thought Morgana's garden gnomes were a touch excessive, I change my mind; that was excessive."

He swung the torch around.  
"What?" Reginald looked around. "You stopped the defence spell."  
"There's always more than one, and I'm hearing something."

Reginald listened. It was a growing hiss. Long ropes whipped across the floor like snakes. They sprang up into the air around them, circling about, wrapping the unlikely pair up like Birthday presents. Reginald yelped as the ropes toppled him over and dragged him across the cavern floor, Darkwing beside him.

* * *

"Welcome to my party, boys." The rope dragged Reginald up into a chair, Darkwing in the chair beside him.

"Tula, you won last time. You got exactly what you wanted." The strange witch came forwards. Her hair was brown and straggly and she looked like skin and bone.  
"You fooled me. You lost me my victory." She pointed a long gnarly finger accusingly at Darkwing.  
"Don't blame me; you probably cast the spell wrong."

"I didn't get to cast the spell!" She spat at him. "Without the rest of you, your feather turned to dust."  
"Wait, it ... it turned to dust? Oh, no, of course it would." Darkwing's voice sounded strangled, as if she'd diagnosed him with a terminal illness.  
"What does that mean?" Reginald asked. Tula snatched a hunk of petals from Reginald's head before Darkwing could even think to answer. "Ow!"

"I was just making tea." Reginald glanced at Darkwing who had a look of horror on his face. The crime fighter started to struggle against his ropes. Reginald watched the woman drop the bits of him into the small cauldron. She stirred it, and then poured two ladleful into a cup. She turned, and with that same equilibrium, she approached Darkwing with the full cup.

"No, wait," Reginald finally realised what she was doing. "I'm not edible!"

Tula grabbed the Duck's beak, and forced the brew down his throat. Darkwing had no choice but to choke it down.

She stepped back triumphantly. "This is my retribution." There was another glimmer that appeared at the wave of her hand. She gestured, and the ropes cast Reginald and Darkwing like tops through the sparkling air.

* * *

"Darkwing?" Reginald got up to his feet.

Darkwing fumbled his fingers along the ground before standing up. "We're ... back in St Canard." He stood up, "she's escaped".  
"You have some strange ideas about priorities." Reginald looked into his eyes; they were already at full dilation. "Is it a bit bright out here?"

"I'm fine." Darkwing backed away from him and hit the wall. "Maybe ..." He gulped, tugging at his collar, "feeling a little ... hot." The Duck was already hot and perspiring? Reginald clasped his hands to his beak. Darkwing was definitely not fine!

Darkwing staggered along the street. Reginald followed him, knowing what was coming up next, he couldn't just leave. Darkwing caved to the ground, his hand to his chest.  
Reginald knelt beside him. "This is awful."  
"I'll be alright, I just ..." Darkwing grimaced. "When my heart rate steadies off I ..."  
"We can't wait around till then; come on, help me." Reginald forced him back on his feet.

* * *

With some difficulty, they got to his greenhouse. The instant he'd helped him onto the bench, the greenhouse shook with Wisteria's voice.

"What useless thing have you dragged home this time?"

"He's sick. He's been poisoned with Atropine."  
"I'm sure you had everything to do with that." Reginald cringed, shutting his eyes as she rained demeaning statements down on him. "You worthless, good-for-nothing ..." Then quite suddenly she stopped. He looked around.

Darkwing Duck was pointing his gas gun at Wisteria. He was sweating in the fever, Reginald knew he could barely see, his heart rate was erratic and he'd pass out any minute. But regardless of how sick he was, the crime fighter's hand was still steady, aiming the gas gun squarely at Wisteria.  
"Do you love her, Bushroot?"

Reginald gulped and swallowed. He gazed, longingly at Wisteria, who towered above all the other plants. She choked out the light for anyone trapped in her shadow. On her exterior features was the cruellest expression he'd encountered, rivalling even Negaduck's. "No." Reginald answered in a hoarse voice.

Darkwing triggered his weapon, and a water bomb hit Wisteria. She screeched and wilted. In a brief while, she was dead.  
"Where'd you get that liquid weedkiller?" Reginald squawked, looking at Darkwing in horror.  
"It was under the bench." Darkwing pointed him to the horrific white bottle of weedkiller below. "And I always carry water bombs."

The fate deciding gas gun slipped from his fingers. "She didn't love you, Bushroot. Who else would have weedkiller in this greenhouse but you or her?" Darkwing collapsed onto the lab bench. Reginald straightened him up so he wouldn't fall off.

Then he examined the forbidden bottle. "Why didn't you use it on me?" He asked nervously, standing up to see him, but Darkwing was already unconscious.

* * *

"What do I do?" Reginald paced the greenhouse.

Spike watched him, getting increasingly dizzy. Reginald looked at Spike. "I can't tell the other Four." He started pacing again. "Oh, they'll just think I'm mad. If Negaduck found out, he'd kill him. Oh, heck, and then he'll kill me for being such a shrinking violet." Reginald stood in front of the unconscious Duck. It had crossed his mind to kill Darkwing Duck, back in the cave. Before he realised it had been too easy.

"... Thirsty ..." Darkwing mumbled.  
Reginald picked up the watering can and filled it up. He realised, as he made his way back that he didn't have anything else to serve water in.

Darkwing grabbed the can and took a gulp from the top of it before Reginald snatched it back. "Not too much!" He tugged, determined to have it. It clattered, splashing to the floor. Despite being so sick, the crime fighter still had all his brute force in his possession.  
"Th-thanks, Launchpad." He collapsed back against the table.

Reginald looked over at Spike, shaking his pod. Reginald took his best friend's advice and didn't correct the crime fighter.


	2. Toxic

****

**Toxic **

* * *

Reginald decided he needed some fresh air and walked out of the greenhouse.

He gazed at the familiar cityscape. Unfortunately for him, this moment alone just made Reginald's mind fall back to Wisteria.

"Where did I go wrong?" He slammed the door back on the city, looking at the greenhouse, empty once more. "I-I did everything I could to make her happy." He sobbed. "She was so mean to me."

"... Leave me alone!" Came a voice filled with frustration.

Reginald rushed to the other side of the greenhouse. Darkwing was standing, talking to an innocent box hedge. "You're dead, you were the last."

"Darkwing?"

"What?" Darkwing retorted to an unsaid statement. "For your information I'm good at what I do." He crossed his arms. "You have no right to ... you're dead." He breathed. "Why don't you talk to my father and see what he thinks?"

He spun around and pointed his gas gun at a palm tree. "You made up your mind to die. You can't come back telling me off now." He dropped the gun. There was a look of incredible pain on his face. "Stop it." He covered his ears, crumpling to the floor. "Go away, you're not real, leave me alone. Stop ... laughing at me." He took long breaths as Reginald took to his side.

Reginald wondered anew. Embarrassed? Rejected? Surely these ideas were foreign to such a person?

"Darkwing?" Reginald tried to grab his attention.  
"Launchpad?" Darkwing gazed at him, unseeing, his eyes defocused, his pupils completely dilated.  
"No, I'm ... Let me get you into bed. You're tired, you need to rest." He took his arm, leading him to the lab bench again.

Darkwing stood there solidly, not interested in lying down. There was little Reginald could do except use brute force or take the safer option and wait.

"How do you always seem to win?" Reginald couldn't help asking.  
"I have a winning act, Launchpad."  
"An act?" Reginald repeated in surprise.

"I'm not tired." Darkwing gazed at him. "You said I'm tired."  
"Yes, you are tired."  
"You're lying, and it's a very unconvincing act." Darkwing grabbed his viney arm. "Launchpad, tell me what's going on."  
"You're sick, Darkwing. If you don't rest you can't get better."

"What happened to me? I'm not remembering very well right now. I'm ... sure it'll come to me a bit later ..."  
"You've been dosed with a strong chemical."  
"Which one?"  
"Atropine."  
Darkwing groaned. "The correct word you're looking for is 'overdosed'."

He collapsed into Reginald's grip.

* * *

For hours, Reginald watched Darkwing writhing on the lab bench. Asleep, the horrid discordance continued.

"No, Gosalyn!" Darkwing nearly jumped off the bench. Reginald twined his vines around him to keep him steady. Finally after several minutes it crossed his mind to use proper rope and he called out for help.  
"Rope, Spike!" Shortly his best friend came up to him with the garden hose. "Uh, thanks, Spike." He patted his pod friend and wrapped the hose around Darkwing and the bench. Then he tied the ends together.

Reginald somehow felt safer now. He yawned, and saw that Spike had brought him a chair. "Thanks, Spike." He sat down and drifted into a light sleep.

* * *

"Don't die on me, mum. What'll I do without you?"

Reginald's ears pricked at the sound, stirring him from his sleep. Mum? He shook Darkwing's shoulder. "Wake up."  
Darkwing's eyes were bloodshot and still dilated.  
"Tell me about your mum. How did ... how did she die?"  
It was a long moment.

"Have you ever been lonely, Launchpad?"  
"Always." Reginald responded, gasping in shock. Did he really understand? But ... how could he?

"Even in a crowd, you can be alone. Loneliness is the slowest death in the world. She died of loneliness and left me alone."  
"Well that's ... ironic."

"I'm the last ... The last ..." He licked his beak. "Thirsty."

Reginald refilled the watering can. On his way back he found a discarded banana leaf to use as a funnel.

* * *

He trickled some water down the leaf into the other's beak. "Better?" He asked, putting the things aside, beside Darkwing's hat and gas gun at the end of the bench.  
"I'm dying, aren't I?"

"Y-yes." Reginald frowned sadly at him. "You've been overdosed on Atropine. Like you said."  
"Atropine?" The way Darkwing repeated the word, Reginald realised that he had no memory of their earlier discussion. "That's a neural toxin. It starts out as a ... hallucinogen."

Reginald was astonished by this sharing of knowledge of the obscure plant toxin. "How could you know that? Have you studied botany?"  
No answer came. Darkwing was asleep.

* * *

"...Lykoff will be happy."  
"Who's that?" Bushroot mumbled awake, blinking up at Darkwing. "Who? Is he a criminal?"

"No more Darkwing trouncing all over his endless paperwork."  
"S.H.U.S.H.?" Reginald gaped at Darkwing. "Why are you doing a job where everyone hates you?"  
There was no answer again. Darkwing drifted back into unconsciousness. But surely he had an answer to give?

A wrecking shudder took his visitor over. Reginald splashed some water onto his face, the coolness to help calm him down.

"Why do you do it? I mean; why be Darkwing Duck? Why take that risk?"  
"Because I can make a difference."  
"I suppose so." Reginald gave him another small drink of water before sitting down into his chair again, dozing off.

* * *

"...Salyn!" Reginald woke. "Gosalyn!"

"Darkwing?" He stood up, looking down at his old enemy. "What's the matter?"  
"Don't ... trust ... Grizlykoff."  
"What's he like compared to Negaduck?"  
"Negaduck?"  
"Yes, Negaduck."  
"Negaduck ... Don't listen to him."  
Reginald hesitated. "What about Bushroot?"

Darkwing sighed in relief. "I'm glad I got to tell you that." He fell asleep.

Reginald sighed and sat back down.

* * *

"Liquidator ... backhands."

Reginald looked up. "What about Bushroot?"  
"A blue moon." Darkwing sighed, "Is hard to come by."  
"You don't have anything to say about me?" Reginald jumped up, wringing his leafy hands. "You've forgotten me?"

"Tell Morgana I'm sorry."  
"What for?" Reginald queried stiffly.  
"Foot and beak."  
Reginald snorted, derisive. "Great. Another riddle." Reginald was instantly sorry for being cranky. This was evidence that Darkwing's neural patterns had begun to degrade.

"Who are you?" Bushroot gazed down at Darkwing Duck.  
The crime fighter's eyes flickered open. They were bloodshot, his pupils still fully dilated.  
"I ... am the terror that flaps in the night."

Bushroot sighed. "But who is the terror that flaps?"  
"I am the terror that flaps in the night."  
"Great. And that would be who?"  
"I am ... I am the terror that flaps in the night."

"Okay, obviously I need to change the topic." He grabbed a name from out of his head. "Who's Launchpad?"  
"Launchpad."  
"No, who is he?"  
Darkwing pushed against the garden hose. "Where's Gosalyn?"

"She's ..." Reginald struggled. He had to say something. "She's ... right here." He clenched his beak feeling sick, but the lie had the right effect in calming Darkwing down. Reginald took a long, steadying breath and stepped back from the bench.

"You realise if they do an autopsy on you, they'll decide it was I that killed you?" He leaned in closer. "Doctor Reginald Bushroot killed Darkwing Duck by destroying his brain."  
"I am ... the terror that flaps in the night."  
"I'll ask them to put it on your grave." Grave? Soil ... plants! "I could actually just bury your body myself!" Reginald turned about, gazing around at the embankments of plants with this all new and incredibly less stressful idea.

When he turned back around, Spike was standing between him and the bench, shaking his head-like pod. "Spike, what am I supposed to do?" Reginald had a feeling that Spike actually was fond of Darkwing. Or at least less than cold about him.

Spike jumped up and down on the spot. 'Wisteria!'  
Reginald recoiled, spinning around, looking nervously for her.  
"She's dead, Spike." He turned back to his friend. "And ... I'm relieved. She wasn't ... very nice at all. She was like Doctor Larson and Doctor Gary."  
'Darkwing Duck, Wisteria.' Spike raced off.

"You mean for me to use ..." Reginald gulped as Spike wheeled out the horrid electrical impulse transfer equipment that had caused Reginald so much personal suffering.

He turned back to Darkwing Duck. "It really is my fault you're nearly dead." He took a shaking breath. "Alright. Against my better judgment, and don't you dare tell anybody about this, Spike."  
Spike looked up at him, cocking his pod, not understanding.

Reginald grabbed the lab coat from the top shelf and did it up. "Hand me the first set of electrodes." He hesitated with them in his hand, and then placed them around Darkwing's head. He hesitated again. "What am I doing?" Now he knew it worked, he was reluctant ... why? He turned his head back to Spike who was filled with excitement. Between his jaws, Spike held out the other set of electrodes.

"... Gosalyn. Where's Gosalyn?"

Reginald turned back to Darkwing. "Where ... where ... would ... your little girl be without you? Why ... she ... she'd be alone too!" His brain reeled with the idea that someone else could end up suffering just like him. What a horrid thought! "Okay!" Reginald took the second set of electrodes and fastened them to his own head.

"At least this experiment is good enough for something, hey, Spike?" Spike nodded enthusiastically. "Alright, so here we go. Turn the generator on, Spike." Spike raced across the room, back along the electrical cord from the trolley, and seconds later Reginald heard the generator starting up. Reginald listened to the engine growing steady. "Ready ... or ... not!" He flicked all three switches on his transmission box, and a wave of nausea overtook him. His head was instantly throbbing.

He collapsed to the floor, unable to find the motor skills to flick the switches back. "Spike!"

Reginald didn't get the chance to give any instructions before everything went black.


	3. Transmissions

___A/N: I have attempted accuracy in all things as far as my understanding from the TV show goes. _

___A/N: As a simple fact of life: I'm sure you've figured out by now from the contents of my writing of what gender type of brain I'm using to write from. I mean this in the nicest anthopological way possible. Also I'm an extraterrestrial currently living in Australia. A____ny constructive suggestions on improving the accuracy of my writing will do wonders for my report back to mission control on Alpha C. _

_A/N: Stay Tuned ..._

**

* * *

**

Get Inside

* * *

'This is a mystery.'

Reginald awoke in blazing daylight, lying on the floor of his greenhouse.

'This is how he made Wisteria intelligent.'  
Bushroot rubbed his head. The headache posed him a question. Where did it come from? He looked up. The trolley had been pushed away from him, and Darkwing Duck stood in front of it. The garden hose was in a tangle on the other side of the bench.

Reginald got up.  
'What happened to her?'  
"You killed her." Reginald answered. "You shot a water balloon full of weed killer at her, and now she's gone. Don't you remember that?"  
"Uh ..." Reginald felt a flush of horror and embarrassment. "Actually," Darkwing coughed. "I really don't."

Reginald rubbed his head again. There was no reason that he should be feeling embarrassed.  
'Are you alright?' "Are you alright?" Darkwing grabbed the watering can still sitting on the end of the lab bench and offered it to Reginald.  
"I'm not sure." Reginald answered. He wasn't thirsty, so he took the watering can and put it on the ground beside his roots. "How are you feeling, Darkwing?" There could be some significant side effects from both the toxin and the treatment that Reginald had provided. He wanted to determine what they were.

"Oh, I'm fine." 'You're kidding me; I just killed someone and I don't remember. I feel terrible. Why am I even alive?' Darkwing blinked at him for a long moment. Reginald frowned. Darkwing seemed a bit confused.  
"You're alive because I used the equipment."  
"No, I mean because I ..." Darkwing stared at him. 'I didn't say that. He's reading my thoughts. A criminal can read my thoughts. Terrific, I definitely need to get out of here. The door isn't locked, that's good. And Spike is ...'  
"Stop!" Reginald begged of the torrent of thoughts rushing at him. He clasped his hands to his head, shutting his eyes. "I'm not ... going to hurt you, you can walk out whenever you like. In fact, you can go right now. It would be my pleasure."

* * *

'That's not what you want.'  
Reginald looked up. "What? What do you mean?" It wasn't as if Reginald was lying!  
'Bushroot won't be happy with anything but a blue moon.' Darkwing sighed and turned back to the trolley. 'It's all my fault. I'm not supposed to kill anybody. Even with ... weed killer? Wait a minute. What is weed killer doing in Bushroot's greenhouse?' "Did you buy the weed killer, Bushroot?"

"No!" He shuddered. "I ended up deciding that a weed is only a weed when it's in the wrong place."  
'Well, that's promising.'  
"Oh, ho, you're one to talk!" Reginald fumed. " 'I am the terror that flaps in the night', there's nothing promising about that! Why don't you try being a real person for a day before ...?"

An image briefly presented itself to Reginald before it was yanked away again into the montage of greenhouse memories. It appeared that this was Darkwing's only answer to his argument. The next instant, the Duck turned away and continued his contemplation of the equipment.

Reginald shut his eyes, struggling to recall the image he had seen. A letter? No, an autopsy report. Of course, he'd seen them before too.  
"... Who was it that died, Darkwing?"  
"I beg your pardon?" Darkwing looked over his shoulder at him. "You might be surprised by this revelation, Bushroot, but although you can hear my thoughts, I have no such advantage over you."

"There was an autopsy report. Someone recently died? You blame yourself for it?"  
"I didn't do it!" Darkwing squawked at him. 'I'm still shocked that ...' Darkwing snapped back the thought and it remained unfinished. It was replaced with a montage of memories of Reginald. "I'm not interested in discussing my psychological traumas with criminals." Darkwing shuddered. Bushroot saw a whirl of images including a fire truck. 'I wish none of that had happened.'

* * *

While Reginald was lost in deciphering his hurtling thoughts, Darkwing grabbed the electrodes. "What did you do to me? These were on the both of us when I woke up."

Reginald took the wires from Darkwing and calmly put them back. "I saved your life."  
"Why save me?" Darkwing was more shocked than suspicious. "After I just killed your Wisteria?" 'What reasoning could possibly have possessed me to do such a horrid thing?' His mind repeated the other question yet again.

"It was her weed killer." Reginald answered stiffly. "If she hadn't brought it in to kill me, you ... you wouldn't have ... you saved my life!" It might have been a shocking turn-around for Reginald, but it was an incredible relief to Darkwing.  
'Thank you. Oh, that's a relief.' Darkwing took a long slow breath.

* * *

Then his thoughts turned another corner and sped up again. "You don't feel sick, do you, Bushy?" 'He looks wilted! She might have already started poisoning your water supply. Oh, how they love watching them suffer slowly to death.'  
"I'm alright!" Reginald shouted, desperate to chase away the dark images that were clouding Darkwing's mind, which threatened to engulf Reginald. "She must have only just bought it because it wasn't there before I went out."  
"If you think you're alright, then that's good." 'Just so long as you don't die on me.' For a brief moment, Darkwing calmed down.

Darkwing opened his eyes, his thoughts returning to what had happened to him. He wanted to know even more than Reginald as to whether he was okay.  
Reginald answered the unspoken question. "I fed my functioning impulses through to your neural pathways to help repair the damage. Since my brain works using Atropine, I expected the effect to neutralize the decay rate at the very least."

Darkwing, blinked, contemplating this on a level worthy of a scientist. "What happened to my own impulses?"

"They were already weakened. You're lucky they didn't disintegrate entirely." Wholesale, Darkwing did not like the idea of decaying pathways applying to his brain, but he turned another mental corner and resolved he was doing fine at the moment or that at least he wasn't noticing it and hopefully it wouldn't affect his ability to do his job. Of course if it did he'd find a way to work around it...  
Reginald clasped his hands to his head. "Why are you always in such a rush? Slow down!"

"Not in my job. I couldn't afford doing that."

* * *

A disturbing thought came into Reginald's own head. "I ... I just realised: I don't know if I helped you return to your normal self or if I ... I might have rewritten you to the way I thought you should be!" Reginald clasped his beak in horror. "I created Wisteria's mental map from scratch and she didn't act anything the way I thought she would. This time I lost consciousness so I'm not even sure ..."  
"The point is that I'm still alive." Darkwing was astounded, gazing at Reginald. 'I'm still alive?' And he was entirely grateful for it.

Darkwing rubbed his head. Reginald was listening in, but it was like watching the blades of a small wind turbine spinning around.

"How are you feeling?" Reginald repeated the question he'd asked earlier.  
"Oh, I'm fine!" Darkwing was suddenly fuming but it was directed inwards. "I just let a dangerous witch go free, a super villain knows everything there is to know about me, and I've been out of it for days. Haven't I?"  
"Uh, yes?"  
'D'oh, I'm late! Late night horror movies, this is a disaster.'

Television ... transmissions ... transmitter ... "Hey!" Reginald grabbed his arm. "I've just figured it out!" He blinked. "I'm shocked that it's never occurred to me before."

"Bushroot, what ..."  
Bushroot drew his vines tighter around the crime fighter. "I've got your delta wave frequency! The transmitter just forced me to find it so that we could link up. But I could tune into someone else's too with a bit of effort." With this new discovery the possibilities were endless.

Reginald stepped back, letting Darkwing go. "You know, you were hallucinating and you said a lot of interesting things. But I didn't get your advice on how to stop me."  
"Perhaps I have none to give, Bushroot?" Darkwing hesitated a smile at him. "I'd better get home. Like you said; try to have a normal day for a change."

He turned, blushed. "And thanks. For saving my life."  
"I know." Reginald replied. "It's been quite a change from you being threatening and ... and mean. Thanks for saving me from Wisteria."  
Darkwing's mood deflated again. "I ... I'm sorry it came to that, I wish it had worked for you." Darkwing hesitated, 'don't give up.' "Nice invention, by the way. I think someone somewhere out there would pay honest money for it. It runs on standard voltage, it's neat, portable, and it helped you save one life already."  
"Well, you'd better thank Spike too. He's the one who thought of using it."  
'Ah, so he's the catalyst?' Darkwing looked around. 'Good boy, Spike! Thank you!'

"Like I mentioned, I'm really late ..." Darkwing's mind conjured an image of the little girl Gosalyn in a state of worry, "so I'll just be ..." the image changed to a lounge room with blue chairs, and suddenly Darkwing was gone.

"Huh?" Reginald scratched his head. Spike bounded up, answering to the call of his name, looking around. "He's gone, Spike."  
Spike cocked his pod.  
"Poof, you know; like he usually does."


	4. Flash, Water and Fire

_A/N: Just as much as the idea of a hospital doesn't occur to Bushroot, he also doesn't question too many of Darkwing's motives. _

**Flash, Water and Fire**

* * *

After Darkwing left it turned into an uneventful day; filled with memories of Wisteria. Constantly running through Reginald's mind were the thousand ways that their relationship had been wrong, and the thousand things that might have caused it to go wrong.

The sun had set and nightlife begun, but Reginald couldn't sleep. He needed to get out of the greenhouse. He went to the kitchenette and put on his coat from the stand. He took out a few notes from the drawer. Darkwing had walked out with no intention of locking him up. That meant it must have been a bit of time since the last robbery. Reginald pulled the drawer out a bit further. No, he still had enough money to last for a bit. Unlike Megavolt or Quackerjack, his habits were a bit cheaper. He closed the drawer and stashed the change in his coat pocket.

He went out, intent to busy himself for the moment and get something nice for himself. The idea of frozen yoghurt popped into his mind, and he headed towards the nearby _'7Eleven'_.

* * *

Just like the other day, there was a flash from the next street. Curious, Reginald peered around the corner.

"Quackator you're under arrest!" A silky dark voice announced into the darkness.  
"Oi! Come on now; what the heck do I need to do to get rid of you?"  
A bat screeched and swooped towards the criminal as he raced towards the fire hydrant. He batted it away with his weapon, then he smashed open the valve and dashed for cover as water erupted everywhere.

"Water won't stop me."  
"Wanna bet?" Quackator yelled at his hereto unseen opponent. "Look at the mess, and it's only gonna get worse!" He ran around the corner, crashing headlong into Reginald. He scrabbled away, raising the nozzle of his flamethrower at him. He cursed. "I told you, I'm not going to be defeated by some ... plant ... thing."

"I am the terror that flaps in the night."  
"Huh?" Quackator frowned, concentrating on Reginald's beak. "How'd you do that when you're here? And your beak's not moving."  
"That's not me! That is Darkwing Duck." Reginald snapped. "I think you've got me confused with him."  
"Oh, sure. That's just what you want me to think."

"I am the stray skateboard on the wooden floor of crime."  
"I know your mind games. Cut it out."  
"I am Darkwing Duck!"  
Darkwing appeared onside them. Quackator did a double check, rubbing his eyes. "Two of you? Am I cursed today or something?"  
"Vandalizing a fire hydrant, eh?"  
"Well, I've always liked a bit of meat with my vegetables!"

* * *

"Dad!" Someone called out as Quackator triggered the flamethrower.

In the same instant, vines seized around Reginald and he was yanked away from the flame, back around to the next street. The vines dropped him under the deluge from the fire hydrant, right along with Darkwing Duck. Darkwing jumped up to a stand as Reginald looked up. By now, the flame had found a target. Something. Or rather someone. Reginald fancied the shape of wings, outstretched, protecting them from the fire? It was only for a moment before they were engulfed entirely in flames.

The flames died out into the air leaving a thin blackened frame, the wings were skeletal, the flesh burnt clear away. The interposer let out an incredible unduck-like shriek, which made Quackator bolt, dropping the flamethrower. The creature leapt after him with astonishing speed for his crisp condition.

Darkwing blinked at Reginald, a look of confusion on his face, his brain doing a massive double take on the situation.  
"I didn't ask for help, I didn't have the ... time."  
"Bushy ..." Darkwing stepped further away from the flume of water. He was completely drenched but his mind dismissed the discomfort as irrelevant, and focused instead on the evidence of the scene that had just taken place. 'I can't leave that lying around.' He picked up the flamethrower and looked back up at Reginald. "Someone just rescued the pair of us from being burnt to a crisp. Could it have been your son?"  
"I don't have a son. I can't have a son." Bushroot crossed his vines. "You're still delusional. I shouldn't have let you leave my greenhouse after all."

"Did you see the flash?"  
"Yes, it was just like Tula's glimmer."  
"It's a portal." Darkwing explained. His mind needed the details to be correct, but also there was enjoyment in sharing the mystery. For a moment, Reginald almost felt like they were friends. "Those two probably came through it."

Darkwing considered several possibilities and quickly decided the best criminal for this job was Tula.  
"All Tula wants is to get back at you." Reginald once again obliged Darkwing's mental topic. "And since she didn't kill you last time she'll keep trying."  
"Well, it seems she's dragging you along for the ride, Bushroot." Darkwing gestured widely, the flamethrower in his hand. He looked down at it. 'Now what the heck am I going to do with a flame thrower? It's too dangerous to even throw in a bin.'

Reginald quaked, feeling uncomfortable. As soon as Darkwing got into the mix of things life careened into danger and all Reginald wanted to do was hide. This 'ride' that Darkwing was contemplating sounded suspiciously dangerous. Darkwing just stood there blinking and hopeful for company. Yes, he was prepared to take that risk; he took it every day.

The idea of company was very seductive to Reginald, but he was already exhausted and the idea of yet another near death experience was repelling."Well I'm not prepared to take the risk. This is your fight and I'm going home to sleep."  
"Okay, Bushy. That's your choice of course." Darkwing just stood there. The Duck was somehow small without the old fight in him.

Reginald turned and walked away back to the greenhouse. He was so tired the frozen yoghurt no longer mattered.


	5. Tend

**Tend**

* * *

The idea of having a son was starting to tease Reginald incredibly as he walked home. Until now, his failure with Wisteria had seemed to point his fate to a singular existence for the rest of his life. He debated between the two theories. He did prefer the idea that he could have a son.

On the other hand, it was a new thought Reginald had never had before he'd lost Wisteria, but if Darkwing's theory wasn't true, how much more pain was Reginald going to inflict on himself over the years as he kept trying?

Fatigued, miserable and angry at himself for no reason, Reginald Bushroot opened the door to his greenhouse. Immediately, he felt a difference in the air.

'Intruder?' He asked his friends silently over the delta waves.  
'New.' They replied in their usual unbiased manner. Reginald was instantly tremulous. He stepped forwards into the greenhouse.

* * *

A woman duck? That hadn't been what he had expected. She looked young with raven coloured hair, loose about her shoulders. She was kneeling on an empty patch of ground in a modest black and red dress. He watched her tilling the soil with a small hand spade, breaking up the earth; intent on her task, a watering can not too far from her other hand.

With his earlier discovery that he could pick up anyone's delta waves, Reginald decided to try it on his intruder to see if she was dangerous and concentrated on her.  
She looked up to the ceiling. Her mind cast outwards, passing out of the greenhouse, calling out into the night. 'I am here for you. Come to me, my love.'  
From this, Reginald decided his intruder was too preoccupied to be dangerous.

Still, she had just walked into his home without any invitation. "Excuse me." Reginald cleared his throat. "Who are you?"  
"Irrelevant. We are all connected." She took a handful of earth and let the soil sift from her fingers. "He's coming." She purred happily, stretching herself in such a way as a cat might.  
Purring? He took a step away from her, gulping. "O-okay." Reginald knew that wasn't a sound a duck should make, and that meant she was something else. He closed his eyes, steadying himself.

There was something mesmerizing about this woman, and he couldn't deny that, without any plant DNA in her whatsoever, she was still remarkably attractive. He turned his head; watching the door. She was awaiting her mate to come to her, so therefore he was too.

* * *

The solar garden lights went out and the double doors opened wide. Reginald watched a four legged creature slink inside the open doorway. In the gloom it was black and skinny. The bones of its wings rattled softly as it moved.

A chirruping came from the creature as it approached the woman. Her arms were outstretched and beckoning. Reginald ached as they embraced. She was pleased to have her mate in her arms, even though he looked little more than a charcoal skeleton.

It just crossed Reginald's mind that perhaps he shouldn't be watching, when the creature opened his beak, revealing a set of long sharp teeth, before lowering his head and closing his beak over his companion's neck.  
"No, don't do that!" Reginald yelped in horror. He'd taken an undecided step forwards when the creature pulled away from her, his beak open for a long breath. In the moonlight Reginald could still see that glistening moisture lined the blackened creature's beak.

* * *

The creature purred with her in his arms, nuzzling his companion's cheek, but Reginald was worried if she was dead.

Finally, she spoke. "Sweetheart," she cooed, "you need to set down roots."  
Reginald stiffened. The creature had paws, not roots. He didn't look anything like a plant ... at the moment.  
"Listen to me, you need ... Simon!" She hissed the name and pulled away from him. "You're not thinking! Actually I know you're not thinking at all ..." She leaned forwards and kissed him on the forehead. She sighed. "I've got the answer." She turned away and her mate let out a miserable squawk that Reginald instantly related to.

"No fuss! I'm not going anywhere, my love." She consoled him, cooing in a warm and affectionate voice that could have melted an entire glacier. "You're thirsty, aren't you? Yes? A bit of water?" He nodded, and she turned again for the watering can. When she turned back he reached for it, his beak open; ready to gulp it down. But instead she dumped the contents over herself, splashing it everywhere.

"There's only one way to drink it now." She leaned back in her dripping clothes, lying down on the muddy ground.

The actions of the woman provoked her mate to set down roots and Reginald felt the ground vibrate as he dug in deep. Her companion leaned close over her, twining himself around her. Absorbing the water soaking her clothes, and up from the healing soil.

* * *

Reginald turned, stumbling away across the greenhouse. He'd never seen anything like it in his life. He groped for the tap on the internal wall, twisting it. Water gushed out onto the dirt and onto his roots. He turned off the tap.

"A bit better," he sighed, soaking up the water on the ground, rubbing his temples with his leafy fingers. It had been unreal, but yet it was too real.

He caught a yawn as he hung up his coat. It was very late now, and he hadn't rooted in yet. He crossed over to his garden bed on the far side of the greenhouse and sank into the soft soil, falling asleep within moments.

* * *

At first light, Reginald woke, once again feeling worn through. It had been like this for him for so long that he was getting used to the feeling. He stretched and uprooted himself, thinking about his nocturnal visitors. Were they still here? He certainly hadn't dreamt them. He hoped that maybe they might talk to him today.

He rounded the embankment of potted plants. He saw the woman in her black and red clothes, lying, sleeping on the soil. Her companion towered over her, almost unrecognisable but for the wings. They stretched out, acting like solar panels. From behind the whole lot of him was green but for the purple petals on his head. Her mate blended in perfectly with the rest of the plants in the greenhouse. He was deeply rooted into the ground, standing, stretching up taking in as much sunlight as he could. Even his vines were stretched out, foliage opened up to take in the morning light.

He was broader than Reginald in the trunk, but not too much taller as to dwarf him. Was he really looking at his son?

Reginald looked down at the ground, noticing indentations in the soil, the other's tracks as he'd come in the night before. Reginald edged around to take a better look. Close up he could see that these weren't root prints. Not even duck prints, those, all four, were paw marks. The sharp ends of the claws gripped excessively into the dirt, as if the walker was tense and fierce, still quite capable of taking on yet another opponent should they dare threaten him.

Reginald's specialty was plants, but he was reasonably versed in animals as well. "Predator." He murmured, also now remembering the set of sharp teeth that he'd used to extract blood from his companion. The predator stirred.

Reginald stood up and circled around again, as far away as the next embankment of potted trees would allow him.

"Raya." The offspring leaned down to his companion, nuzzling her cheek.  
"You know I don't do mornings as well as you." She mumbled.  
"That's purely psychological." 'You're hungry. Open up.'  
Reginald got no more words out of the couple, only a mutual feeling of contentment between them.

* * *

Then there was a blood curdling crashing from above and the entire glass ceiling came shattering down all around.  
"My home!" Reginald quacked, horrified beyond belief at this sudden unexpected catastrophe.

"Raya!" Tula stood triumphant amongst the glass fragments. The obvious cause of the disaster pointed at the visitor. "So that's your name!" The duo sprang to attention, but halfway through the motion of getting up to face her, Tula cast a hex and they were frozen in a large block of ice. In a glimmer his two visitors were gone.

"Reginald Bushroot." Tula turned, addressing him. "You can tell Darkwing Duck that I have his progeny."  
"What about my roof?" Reginald begged grief stricken. "My friends, they can't ..."  
Tula laughed at him and walked through the portal, leaving Reginald alone in a sea of glass shards.


	6. Glass Shards

**Glass Shards**

* * *

Scouring the city for Darkwing Duck was pointless during the day. The caped Duck was usually a night-time menace.

Reginald Bushroot sighed and picked up the broom again. He had already swept the floors before but he still felt like he was treading on those horrid glass shards.

It seemed insanely possible that Simon might be his son. A son, he'd had for only a few hours, till Tula had snatched him away. He swept at the invisible mess. And Darkwing's progeny? "Gosalyn? No, not Gosalyn, Gosalyn has red hair. Gosh now what was that name?"

Reginald looked up on a sound coming towards him, "No, Spike, stay!" The giant Venus fly trap leapt at the broom, wanting Reginald to throw it for him so that he could catch it. "Spike, down!" He bellowed, causing his friend to drop to the floor, whimpering. "Oh, Spike." He stepped carefully forward and petted his friend.

He was in the habit of worrying at the moment and Spike was subject to the effects. "It's just that there's glass everywhere in here and I don't want to see you get hurt. It's alright for the others because they're not mobile. Let's go outside, and I'll check you haven't picked up any glass fragments that can cut you up, okay?" He led his friend out of the greenhouse and onto the pathway.

Reginald checked Spike's roots for any glass fragments. "I can't see anything, but you tell me the instant you get cut, okay? I don't want you getting infected. Better still ..." Reginald faced his friend with his new idea, "There's still a lot of glass in the house, Spike. I want you to stay out here. And keep your roots in the ground. If you're cut, exposure to the air could make you infected." Spike cocked his head at Reginald, not understanding all the things he was telling him. "The ground, Spike, keep your roots in the ground out here. That'll keep you from getting sick." Spike licked him and bounded off onto the lawn, parking on an under-populated spot. Reginald breathed in relief.

* * *

As soon as it was sunset, Reginald covered his friends that were the most sensitive to cold. "Goodnight, Tomato, goodnight, Fern, goodnight, Bellflower." If he had enough tarp he would have covered everyone. Just when he thought he'd run out of energy to be upset, tears clouded his eyes again. Why was the world so horrid and mean?

Reginald walked away from his greenhouse and onto the street. He looked around for a sign of Darkwing Duck. He'd never had gone looking for the crime fighter before today. Darkwing was just the sort to 'turn up'.

Down a backstreet, he heard a window shatter. It made Reginald yelp, remembering his greenhouse and his poor plants. They wouldn't survive too much of the weather. As it was, it was lucky it was summer. It was alright for now, he tried vainly to talk some sense into himself, summer wasn't so bad, and there was no chance for rain tonight ...

"I am the terror that flaps in the night."

Reginald jumped; a tangle of nerves. Darkwing was a nightmare to him at any given moment. Then he remembered that this was the very person he needed help from and let out a sigh of relief.

"I am the tune that you can't get out of your head. I am Darkwing Duck!"

Reginald trembled and hid behind a streetlamp for protection. He watched Darkwing make short work of this criminal. With a single flying double web kick the fight was over. 'Ouch.' Reginald grimaced. Apparently Darkwing was brutal with everyone.

* * *

"What are you up to, Bushroot?" Darkwing walked determinedly up to Reginald as Launchpad marched the criminal down the street to a set of police officers on the beat.

"A-actually: nothing." Reginald crossed his vines looking for his courage. He turned to Darkwing standing there. "As a matter of fact, I know it's hard, even for me to believe, but I've been looking for you." He took a breath. "It's Tula again."

It was incredible to be audience to another individual's mental dexterity. Like a sword Darkwing's mind turned around, and Reginald was no longer facing Darkwing's pointed end, but rather the flat edge.  
"Well, I guess my theory was correct." Darkwing was pensive, thinking on Tula now. Darkwing never doubted his theory, Reginald discovered listening in. Darkwing was just waiting for more evidence to back it up. "Let's just hope she doesn't want to bring you down with me ..." 'for saving my life.'

It hardly mattered to Reginald of what he'd done. It only mattered that Tula had destroyed his home and jeopardised all of his friends, kidnapped his son and his mate and topped it all off by laughing at his plight. Reginald's feelings exploded out of him.  
"She broke my greenhouse! She put them in ice! Yes, you were right; I'm coming along for the ride regardless of what I do!" He hid his face in his hands, sobbing. It was the last straw.

"Whoa, calm down; who's been put in ice?"

Reginald looked up, clasping his beak with his hands for a moment at his communication error. "You know, the ... the person that rescued us from the flame thrower?"  
"Yes, I remember."  
"And well ... he had a ... a friend."  
"The Quackator guy?"

Reginald watched as Launchpad finished talking to the police officers and came walking back. "No, it was ..." Reginald took a breath, trying to make enough sense in his head so he could explain it properly. "Actually, she looked a bit like Morgana."  
"Morgana Macawber?"  
Reginald nodded.

"And my friends are going to die without the roof to protect them; they're going to drown, or they'll live long enough for the frost to kill them, or ... or winter! And Tula took these two away ... and I only just met them ..." Reginald sobbed. He felt that his whole world had come crashing down with that roof.

"Bushy!" Darkwing grabbed at his vines, uncomfortable, uncertain. "We'll ... get to the bottom of this. And then we'll get you a new roof. One night won't do too much harm, and you've got the most sensitive plants protected for the night, haven't you?"  
Reginald glared at him through his tears, deciding not to dignify that question with an answer.  
Darkwing straightened. "I take that as a yes."

* * *

"DW, are you really gonna help Bushroot? I mean, are you sure about this? He is a criminal." Launchpad remarked, rejoining their conversation. Reginald didn't know why, but those words sounded a little bit rehearsed, like the sidekick regularly asked these sorts of interfering devil's advocate questions. Reginald was intrigued. What was this person; Darkwing's mental hedge clipper?

It didn't take Darkwing long to come up with an answer. "People are in trouble, Launchpad, that's all I need to go on." He looked back up to Reginald. "Actually, a bit more information could help. Can you tell us anything about the hostages?"  
"I ..." Unbidden, all the answers promptly left Reginald's head. "I don't remember."  
"I don't blame you for that." 'He's wilted from the stress. He may remember more a bit later though.'

Darkwing's mind turned around and focused on a problem that he found difficult to resolve. 'It's Me that needs Him this time.' The Mallard had such a burning intensity in his willpower that Reginald could have caught on fire. "Normally I wouldn't, but you seem stuck in this with me, so ..."

"DW." Launchpad said overhead, firmness in his tone.

'Right, right ... persuasive ...' Darkwing cleared his throat, his face showing a sample of how uncomfortable he was. "What I mean to say ..." Darkwing cleared his throat. 'Is that I need your help. Why can't I just say it? This is the best alternative, I have to take it or people may die.'  
Reginald blinked, discovering a great lot of detail in this momentary struggle. On the surface it was pride that Darkwing was battling within him, but deep down there was a heavily impressed need for self-protection. It was the whole world that Darkwing habitually shut out, not just criminals.  
"... Is that I could really use your help, Bushy." 'If there's more than one of them, I have to start using his first name.' "Reginald." Then he blushed. "Please."

Reginald turned his attention on the disagreeing and therefore potentially dangerous Launchpad. He searched for his delta waves and tuned in.

What Reginald found was a mash of emotions and random images of flight instruments. 'I knew you could do it, DW. All you have to do is ask.' A hefty chunk of his brainpower was also contemplating the potential prospects of getting a pizza at some point tonight. Then his emotions turned onto Reginald and the plant-duck felt a surge of unwelcome pity. 'Poor guy, he's really beat. I'm glad DW sees it.' While everything else going through Launchpad's head was benign, the pity made Reginald feel even sicker than he already was.

Reginald stepped back before realising that no physical distance would save him from Launchpad. He needed to get out of his mental range. He focused back on Darkwing and the smothering pity turned to needling impatience.

The difference between these two people was staggering. "You ... you don't have any pity for me, Darkwing Duck?" He wasn't looking for it, but he had to ask.  
"I prefer to focus on things that I can do and fix. And right now, you have information locked away in your head that could help me do that. So I ask again. Please come with us."


	7. It Takes One

**It Takes One to Find One**

* * *

Reginald really couldn't say no to that much sincerity, and momentarily found himself sitting in the noisiest machine he'd been in for quite some time. They drove across town, parking eventually at the front of Morgana Macawber's chateau.

"Someone could use those red lights against you." Like Megavolt, Reginald considered. He could really use that information to his advantage.  
"Yes, and I'm pretty sure that if they did, I'd catch on and figure out something else." Darkwing replied briskly, jumping out of the machine and replacing his helmet with his hat.  
"You're lying with tenses!" Reginald said in some shock. "You meant you 'have' ... sorry." He turned away from the troubled Duck and looked over the fence at the spooky place.

The woman had looked like Morgana Macawber, confirming Negaduck's slither of gossip about Darkwing. "So, I guess this means you're really dating her?"  
'Yes'. Darkwing changed the subject. "We should hurry; those two will be thawed out by now. That means Tula's probably torturing them."  
"Darkwing." Reginald grabbed his arm, pulling him back as he remembered more. "There's something you should know."

Darkwing turned to him, listening, simultaneously stifling his defensive tendencies.  
"This isn't easy for you, is it?" Reginald let go and Darkwing relaxed slightly. "Is it because I'm a criminal?"  
"That's a pretty big part of it, yes." Darkwing took a breath. 'Deep down, I'm sure it's there inside you but ...' He shook his head. 'There's no time for this luxury.' The concern for the generic two people in immediate danger overrode his thoughts about Reginald. "Go on then, what do I need to know?"

"They ..." Reginald gulped. Darkwing didn't even have a proper picture of them in his head. How could Reginald explain that strangeness? There was nothing conclusive. What relevance was it that one or both of them were predators?  
'He knows something.' Darkwing blinked at him before he turned and swung the gate open. 'There must be a reason that he's changed his mind on telling me.'  
Reginald gulped again. Now that was a question. If Darkwing knew they were predators, would he still help?

Reginald recalled Tula's livid face after the roof had come down. Then his memory connected words. "I remember what Tula said! She said she was yours. I mean: that was why Tula kidnapped her." He pointed at Darkwing. It was a moment of silence on Darkwing's part as he analysed the mechanics to make such a theory possible. Then in reaction to those thoughts, an unmistakeable bright red blush covered the unmasked part of his face.

"Gee, DW." Launchpad said from behind Reginald, filling up what would have been an awkward silence for Darkwing. "It must've been that portal you were talking about. You know how you were saying that guy that looked like Bushroot, but wasn't? They must've come through together."  
Reginald crossed his vines, turning to correct Launchpad. "I'm pretty sure he is a Bushroot, it's just his first name that's different."  
"I agree." Darkwing Duck finally found his voice.

Then his inherent argumentative nature came back at full strength. "Only ... what were they doing together ... in your greenhouse?"  
Reginald flinched. "Were you born suspicious? They're both adults! I had no right to interfere."  
"No 'right'? Great! What a time to start figuring out your morals!" Darkwing snapped at Reginald. Then he started mentally grilling himself on where he might have gone wrong in raising the child he hadn't even met yet. He looked back up at Reginald. "Did you see a ring?"

"I wasn't ..." Reginald stopped his sentence because in actual fact he had been 'looking' but it just hadn't been for a ring. It had never for one moment occurred to him to look for such a thing as a ring on a finger. "I don't remember. I'm sorry; if you were there you would have seen a completely different picture, I'm sure."  
"Never mind." 'I'll try to reserve my judgement until I have a bit more information.'  
"Yeah, don't get carried away." Reginald agreed, more positive because Darkwing seemed to be showing a slither of leniency. "They were really happy together, after all."  
Darkwing's mind fell back to the prominent fixture in his brain that was the line between right and wrong. 'Oh, there had better be a ring.'  
Reginald gulped. Seeing the intense cloud of menace focusing in on someone else was still very frightening.

Darkwing turned to face the house again. Reginald saw the mental shift as Darkwing's mind resumed his usual dedicated attitude. "Are you coming, Launchpad?"  
"If you're sure this is a good idea, DW?"  
"This is Tula's game, not Reginald's. And these two ..."  
"Simon and Raya." Reginald repeated the names from his memory  
"Simon and Raya ... are caught in the middle of it. That makes them victims." He continued up the pathway and then jumped up the stairs.

* * *

Darkwing rang the bell.  
"Hi, Morgana."  
"Hello, Dark."  
The sudden emotional syrup in Darkwing's head was suffocating. Reginald stepped back in horror and bumped into Launchpad. Incidentally, Launchpad was also blocking the steps down from the porch, making an escape extremely inconvenient.

Morgana was standing there in the doorway, reviewing them all. "Why is Bushroot here?"  
This whole situation was completely unfair! Thanks to Morgana, Darkwing's brain had turned into a spectacularly useless swamp of molasses and here she was, digging Reginald out?

Reginald crossed his vines. "My friends are also in trouble! I'm standing here and I shouldn't be because I need a whole entire new roof!" Saying it out loud made Reginald realise he didn't have a clue on where he needed to start in order to get a new roof. He'd pinned all his hopes on Darkwing to help him. "I don't need to be here; I need a new roof." He repeated, sinking straight down into misery again.

"Yes!" Darkwing turned to him in annoyance. Apparently there was something still working in his head. Reginald just hadn't seen it amidst all the syrup. "I'm not going to forget your roof, now hush!" Darkwing snapped at him and then turned back to Morgana. "I'm stuck, Morg, I need your help to find Tula. She's got hostages this time."

"Okay." There was a positive ring in Morgana's voice. "You'd better come inside."

* * *

Reginald followed the others into the wooden place. Because of the dark gloom it felt haunted and ghostly.

"Are you aware that she's baiting you, Dark?"  
"That's the first thing I know." Keenness backed his dark voice. The part of his thoughts that wasn't syrup was animate and calculative, piecing together his previous encounters with Tula. Reginald rubbed his head. He couldn't take much more of this.  
"Morgana, Tula's kidnapped two people from the future and is holding them hostage in order to get to me."

"Dark, are you sure you can trust Bushroot with telling you these things?"  
"That's what I've been asking all night, Morgana." Launchpad commented.  
"Hey!" Reginald felt hurt. "Are you saying that I'm lying?"  
Darkwing looked at him with narrowed eyes. 'Whatever he's withholding it's not for personal gain. Either he doesn't trust me or he doesn't think I will understand the information.' Darkwing turned back to his girlfriend. "He's not lying, Morgana. It's all true as far as memory goes, albeit somewhat censored. The only way to get to Tula is to find out where her last portal went to."  
"Oh, okay, Dark. Just let me get together what I need." She drifted away.

Morgana came back shortly with a large handbag. "For me to do this, we have to get to the place that she portalled from."  
"My greenhouse; or what's left of it. Oh, ha," the thought newly occurred to Reginald, "your motorcycle won't fit all four of us."  
"That's okay." Darkwing's mind went quiet. "Launchpad, won't you take the rat-catcher back over there?"  
"Sure, DW." Launchpad left.

"Are you certain you can do this voluntarily, Dark?"  
"I've figured out what triggers it now. Besides, another portal nearby will wash away all the evidence, won't it?"  
"Yes, actually, it will."  
"Alright, I'd better hold on to you." He took Reginald's arm and Morgana's hand, "one very specific greenhouse, on one specific hill ..."  
The image of Reginald's greenhouse from the pathway settled into Darkwing's mind, and a wave of disorientation hit Reginald. The colours of the world shifted and the air changed from indoor to outdoors.

He blinked, and saw Spike rushing up towards him. He looked around. Outside his greenhouse!  
"How do you do that?"  
"Air."  
"That's not an answer. What's the science behind it?"  
Darkwing sighed. "Microscopic, dark matter life forms. Shall we go in now?"

"Watch your step; I don't have a vacuum cleaner." Reginald warned. "Spike, you stay here." Spike lowered his pod dejectedly. Reginald petted him. "Remember what I told you earlier? It's safer for you out here."  
'That's interesting.'  
"What is?" Reginald looked at Darkwing watching him. All he got for an answer was an impression of how the crime fighter felt about his adoptive daughter when she was getting into something dangerous.  
"No, really, I think it's a good thing that he stays outside." Darkwing swished his cape as he turned, stepping into the greenhouse after Morgana. Reginald followed.

It was only now that Reginald remembered that he had the ability Not to listen. As soon as he remembered, he switched out of Darkwing's wave length to give himself a break. "I'm not listening anymore." Reginald announced quietly. He had to tune out for the sake of his own shoestring sanity. "You fluctuate from a mental cyclone to a poetically vague breeze. You go about connecting dots in an unseemly and unending chaos." Reginald refrained from mentioning what Morgana did to his brain; after all, that wasn't Darkwing's fault.

"Do you mean my thoughts aren't linear or neat enough for you?"

Reginald frowned at Darkwing's triumphant grin and tuned in to Morgana instead. He watched her compile her concoction, using her mind, searching for the destination of Tula's portal. Reginald couldn't quite understand all of her thoughts because she did the spell in a bizarre language that sounded nothing like any Quackonese dialect he knew about. Her mind also seemed to drift out of the tangible realm and into a realm that had no emotional barriers or logical definition.

The part that was clear was the greedy lustfulness dedicated to Darkwing himself. In her highly focused mind all things were relevant to the spell she was doing but Reginald didn't understand the connection. It all seemed to be what she needed to do an honest job, however, because the portal glimmered back into existence.  
"Here it is!"  
"Great job, Morgana!"  
The sound of enthusiasm in Darkwing's voice was reassuring to Morgana. 'That spell took a lot of power. I wish he'd let me feed him.' Reginald wasn't sure of the relevance of that thought either.

"Darkwing, it's clear that Tula intends to harm you." The witch said firmly. "I'm not letting you go alone."  
"Well ... okay, Morgana, but I'd still better go first in case the other side has been booby trapped."  
There was the sound of the motorcycle coming up the drive.  
"And that's Launchpad. So; after me if you're coming." Darkwing walked through the portal and disappeared.

Morgana sighed as Launchpad ran into the greenhouse. "He's gone again, Launchpad. Quickly, before the portal closes." Morgana stepped forward and disappeared through the glimmer.  
"If he is your son, you'd want to come, Bushroot. Make sure he stays safe."  
"Yes." Reginald stepped through the portal a moment after him.


	8. Instinctive Reasoning

****

**Instinctive Reasoning**

* * *

Reginald went through the portal with Launchpad, uncertain of all but one thing: he didn't want to be left alone.

The fate of his greenhouse was still out of his control. He shuddered, realising that the glass was in the earth of every pot and it was going to be a nightmare to fix. He'd be cutting his vines every time he tended them.  
"Why do people have to be so horrid?" He said, gazing around at the lurid, sulphur smelling hole in the ground that they were in.

"I didn't expect you to come, Bushroot." Darkwing said with raised eyebrows.  
"I'm going to hold you to your promise."  
"That suits me fine." Darkwing nodded, and then turned away. "Now, she came through here and ..."

"Over there." Morgana pointed.  
"Her hideout?"  
"No, unfortunately, look out!" A pterodactyl swooped down at them, snapping its long narrow snout as it passed, letting out a warning shriek.

"That's novel." Darkwing said, readying his gas gun with a sleeping gas grenade.  
"I bet she thinks we're after her babies." Launchpad analysed. Then he chuckled. "You learn a thing or two as a den leader."  
"Well, in that case let's not overstay our welcome. We're on a rescue mission of our own."

They scrabbled up over the side of the crater and looked out on a much more hospitable environment. Tropical plants, a lake. No sign of a building.

* * *

They walked down the outside of the crater.

"If we split up we can cover more ground." Launchpad advised.  
"I think ..." Darkwing turned around, then settled on a direction. "That way; come on."  
They headed in the direction, and a few minutes later a rock face confronted the trekkers.

"Darkwing, I think you might have been wrong." Reginald hesitated, knowing it would be a blast to the Duck's ego. "This rock runs hundreds of metres in either direction."

"Can you be a bit more precise, Bushroot?"  
"No, I'm not a robot!"  
"Okay, it was just a question." Darkwing moved up to the wall, pulling out his gas gun, looking around.

He shortly came back. "I have a teensy question!" His voice was half an octave higher. Harried tension showed on his face. Reginald didn't need to tune in to know he was feeling troubled. "Feel free to offer an answer, any of you: What happened to all the defence spells?"  
"Oh, my, you're right!" Morgana turned about. "I would have had half a dozen gnomes attacking already. It shouldn't have been this easy. Even to get out of the crater we should have had some trouble at least."

Reginald searched for an answer. Last time they'd lost to tentacular ropes after two dozen goblins nearly mauled them to death. It seemed unlikely that Tula wouldn't have any sentries this time, even if Tula's trap was primed to go off the instant Darkwing stepped into the doorway. Nobody wanted Darkwing Duck to catch them off guard.

"Gee, DW. I don't know. Maybe our friends already stopped them?" Launchpad finally offered.  
"I was hoping you'd come up with a different answer from me, LP."  
"Uh, sorry, DW. Um, maybe she's had a change of heart?"  
"That's better."  
"... Even though she's almost killed you at every incident ..."  
"O-okay. Thank you, Launchpad. I know it's unrealistic."  
"And I think it was on purpose at least once."  
"Alright!" Darkwing quacked, before calming down again. "Let's just go through the door, okay?" He turned to Morgana and Reginald. "You two can stay out here. I think its safe enough. Safer than what's bound to be in there, anyway."

Darkwing disappeared into the rock face with Launchpad right behind him.

Reginald was confused. "Morgana, aren't you the best choice to fight Tula, since you're both witches?"  
"Yes." She shook her head, sighing. "Are you coming with me?"  
"I ... I don't know." He watched her cross the space and disappear through the wall.

Reginald thought for a long moment. If he had a son, Launchpad was right; wouldn't it be his job to protect him? He paced for a moment, and then stopped, looking at the rock face again.  
"Well, why not? It's not the first crazy thing I've done." He shrugged and put his hand up against the rock face at the place the others had disappeared. There was a give and he pushed through the projection field.

* * *

Reginald found himself in a dark corridor. The place shared the same scent of herbs as Morgana's house, except it was also dank and mouldy. The others were nowhere in sight. He'd hesitated for too long.

'Left or right?' Reginald stood there, unable to even start an educated guess. 'Okay, let's be scientific about this ...' He closed his eyes, spun around and went in the direction that he stopped.

* * *

"Do you know the difference between these two samples, Simon?"

Reginald pressed himself against the wall and quietly approached the open doorway.

"You shouldn't have taken any samples at all." The dark, silky voice that Reginald had heard before replied. Once again, there was that touch of menace, the lurking warning threat.  
"Nothing! Why is that?"  
"We share. That makes us strong together."  
"Venom too?"

Reginald decided he was not in the position to do anything here. The others must have taken the other direction.

"Don't you find it remotely curious, Simon? How can your venom be so pure? And you don't even have a name to describe yourself."  
"I do. Lycium Nycanthropus Carnivorous."  
"Oh, how ridiculous. Suits you."

Reginald straightened, instantly outraged. 'Ridiculous?'

"That's your opinion and that's fine." Simon replied in a conversational tone, deflecting the insult with steadfast simplicity. "I still want those samples back, however."  
Tula laughed. "One couldn't believe, listening to your righteous debate, that your whole body is flushed with poison. From your venom ... down to your blood. You must have a brain to match. It's just hidden beneath all that ... social indoctrination." She made a gagging sound.

"I take that as a compliment to my parents. But you can't push me too far, Tula. Those samples you've taken are lethal. I cannot let you keep them."  
"Or what?"

With a baited breath Reginald waited for the answer but it didn't come.

"Oh, come now, Simon Bushroot. Say it."

Simon Bushroot. There it was. Lycium Nycanthropus Carnivorous. Somehow, at some point, Reginald would succeed.

"Or you'll use them and that's unacceptable under vampire law."  
"Yes, I've already thought of that little trick. There's no rescuing Darkwing Duck from a little vampire infection. Irreversible. It'll take oh ... a matter of months for him to die from just one tiny drop of it. Like from a dart or two ... hundred!" She cackled. "That's just as soon as he triggers the trap that he's walking into right about now."

There was a shattering of glass and splashing of liquid. A foul smell forced Reginald to take a step back from the doorframe.

"You ... green-blooded hybrid fiend! You've broken my entire pantry!"  
"You're in breach of vampire law."  
"Witches have our own code."  
"Oh, you might think so, Tula. But when all is said and done, the witches' code is breakable and it is only a matter of time and magnitude before you force the job upon the Mastership. Eventually, if the witches' council does not stop you, Darkwing Duck will."

"They fear me. If the feather had not disintegrated, I would already be the council."  
"You mean Darkwing Duck's feather?" He snorted. "I'll not solve your problems for you, any more than he."

Reginald hesitated. What was his son talking about? There was an air of stubbornness, of self determination and steadfastness. It felt frighteningly familiar.

"Wait ..." Tula's voice changed to one of concern. "Where is she?"  
"Do you mean my mate?"  
"Do not play these games with me, vampire!"  
"But it's always a game. For example, your game that's with Darkwing Duck."

"He thwarted my plans. He must die. The game is over."  
"You're so upset because his feather disintegrated?" Simon let out a laugh. "Oh, how petty you are."  
"You pit yourself against my fury!"

"I see; that's the reason you took the samples. You were still trying to replace the feather." Simon laughed again.  
"I will find her. Whatever she's up to, I'll stop her. Just like her father." Tula erupted from the room.

"That's doubtful." Simon called out, making Tula stop and turn to stare directly at Reginald. Simon came out of the room. He seized Reginald and dropped him down the corridor behind him. Reginald was out of the witches view behind those wings, pressing against the walls of the corridor. They were so massive that they did the job with folds to spare.

Reginald heard Tula uttering a spell, casting on Simon. There was a sound like an electrical snap and she screamed.

"You have no power over me, witch. How does that feel?"  
She was breathing heavily, out of breath although he hadn't moved from his blocking position. "... You have ... magic in you ... how?"  
"Sur-pri-ise!" Simon let out a peal of dark laughter, and there followed the sound of running feet vanishing into the distance. Tula's running feet.

Reginald approached the other as his wings folded back. It came to his notice that Simon's frame had to be wider than Reginald's so as to support those massive wings.  
"Dad, why are you getting in the way again? You're not normally one for being dangerous."  
"Well, I guess ..." Reginald gazed at him. "You're my son; I want to protect you. I've never felt that before, I-I'm not very practiced at it."

"I'm an adult now, dad. I've finished college, I've just gotten my first proper career posting."  
"What field?"  
"Uh, no, not science." Simon frowned. "I guess all this is a bit of a shock; just to accept that I exist at all."  
"What's your posting?"  
Simon looked away from him. "You don't like it, dad. Can we leave it at that?"

"Simon?"  
"Ugh, dad!" Simon looked back at him. "I love you, but this constant stand off between you and me is painful! Why can't you just accept it? I have to do these things, because I know that I can make a difference."

Another voice rang through Reginald's head, echoing behind Simon's words.

_"Why do you do it? I mean; why be Darkwing Duck? Why take that risk?"  
__"Because I can make a difference."_

Reginald gaped at his own flesh and blood. "You ... you're a c-c-crime fighter?"  
"In vampire terms, we're called peacekeepers. I've studied law, politics and economics. I applied to Hamil Corporation so I could better fit my career around Raya's."  
"What is she; a police officer?"

"She's my mate." Simon turned away and started walking back up the corridor.

Reginald followed, feeling subdued. All in all, those three words were the most understandable explanation for a person's bizarre behaviour that he had ever heard, and it hadn't even come to him over the delta waves.


	9. Dreamatic

**Dreamatic Conclusion**

* * *

They stepped into an enormous round room. A mosaic was on the floor. Stone columns, lined the walls and echoes rebounded.

"Phew, I thought I was a goner." Launchpad's voice directed Reginald to where the others were.

"Now ... this is familiar." Simon remarked by Reginald's side, peering around as they approached the others.

"I don't see how!" Darkwing exclaimed, picking up his hat, checking it over, as if looking for holes. He picked up the edge of his cape, peering at the fabric before dropping it and turning back to Simon. "It was a stream of lava with a flimsy stone walkway across it two minutes ago." He finally turned to Raya. "You did this! You changed this whole room, didn't you?"

"Uh ... well, I ... please don't get upset at me, dad!"

"I'm not upset ..." Darkwing looked down at the floor, gingerly tapping his foot on it, still amazed at the solidness of it. "I ... think this is amazing! Morgana, she's just like you! This is fantastic, imagine how many criminals ..."  
Raya zoomed up to him with unduck-like speed and shook him. "Dad! Snap out of it! I've never seen you this crazy before in my life!" She let go of him and he stepped backwards, dramatically silenced.

"Whoa, how'd she move so fast, DW?" Launchpad asked.  
Darkwing didn't answer and merely stared at his daughter.

* * *

Raya turned, glancing at Reginald before her eyes fell on Simon. "Tula's shot through like we expected. Did you get the portal configuration off her?"  
Simon nodded.

"Dad nearly copped it instead."  
"I'm not sure about that. He looks like he already has copped it." She moved to Reginald's side. "Sir, are you alright?"  
"I told him about my job."  
Raya hissed. "Simon! You're not supposed to tell them anything! That interferes with the space time continuum."

"Maybe I don't want to fight with my dad as much as we've done?"  
Tears instantly filled Reginald's eyes from Simon's words.

"Don't you have something to say to your dad?"  
Raya paused. There was a long moment and then at last, Raya spoke in a calm voice, looking at her parents. "I love you, mum and dad."  
"That's not ..."  
Raya shook her head at Simon in warning.

"Tally ho, mister mate!" She said, changing the subject in a sudden loud, piratical accent. "A new game be out there on the horizon, waitin' for us to start rollin' them thar dice, aharr."  
Simon's air of concern turned to one of calm again. "Aie, aie, captain."

* * *

Simon paused. "But in line with your argument, you're being forgetful, my sweet."

"Oh, yes." Raya turned back to the others, "very ... forgetful."

Reginald watched Launchpad yawn, and then crumple to the floor.  
"Launchpad!" Darkwing exclaimed. "What did you just do?" He backed up as Raya moved towards Morgana and himself.  
"Sweet dreams, mum." Morgana fell into Darkwing's arms. He laid her on the floor.  
"You want to make me forget you too. Why?"

"Oh, dad, I'm so sorry." There was a tremble in Raya's voice. "All you are is your memory."  
"You don't think ... I can handle the idea of ... Surely you know ... Raya, my Raya. You are so beautiful."

"I'm just a dream, dad." She hugged him fiercely. "A dream." She lowered him to the floor beside Morgana.

He didn't stir.

* * *

"Raya!" Simon said in a panic stricken voice. "You can't play a psychological game on the master of psychological games, vampire or not! He'll see straight through it like a Crimsafe screen with a backlight!"

"Simon, it was worth a shot. He can dismiss the chain of memories for himself and they may even stay dismissed."  
"I would never put anything past Darkwing Duck!" Simon crossed his vines. "What do you think, dad?"  
"Never." Reginald agreed. "Why didn't you just take away the memories?"  
"No, no, you can't erase memories! You can only help them get lost; bury them under other memories so they don't cause as much damage. But I couldn't do that for him, because he ... He'd only remember it later. Dad ... he's ... got a very good memory."  
"I'll take your word for it." Reginald said, unable to comprehend how Darkwing managed to get along with that cloud of chaos in his head.

"If you're going to make me forget, could you please make me forget the whole week?"  
"Impossible, dad." Simon said calmly. "Between your plant side and your duck side, there's no space left to hide anything properly in your brain. It's up to you to fade the memory for yourself over time."

"Meanwhile, I want you to have some faith." Raya hugged Reginald suddenly. "The totality of life conspires to make its components work."  
"How come you're a vampire?" Reginald couldn't help but ask. The sense of that predator lurking within the gentle duck-wrapping was all too obvious.  
She stepped away, and into Simon's arms. "Another time, sir." She raised her hand, and with a glimmer, they were gone.

"No!" Reginald cursed softly. Had she been wearing a ring? She'd moved her hand too quickly and he still wasn't sure!

* * *

Reginald moved across the floor, watching, once again, as his antagonizer slept.

He took a breath. "All components have their uses?" He looked over at Morgana. "But I'm still missing mine."

He knelt beside the crime fighter. "Darkwing Duck?"  
"What ... what did you call me?" Darkwing blinked up at him.  
"I said Darkwing Duck."  
The Duck jumped to a stand in a fit of nervous tension. "Tula." He looked around the room. Then he looked at the floor. Then he looked around the room again. He rubbed his head.

Reginald waited with baited breath.

Finally Darkwing crossed his arms, "... a far flung attempt. I don't buy it. Did they try it on you, Bushy?"

"Uh ... try?" Reginald didn't want to give the answer, and Darkwing's eyes narrowed in his study of his face. This stand-off helped step Reginald back into the familiar. "I ... I don't have to answer to you." He took a breath, demanding courage of himself to face his enemy.  
"You already have, so there's no point saying you're not going to say anything!" Darkwing countered triumphantly. He spun around on the spot, then he jumped; exalted. "I thought I'd die long before I ever had the chance to have a child of my own. I mean, not genetically. But I saw her; she was my own! A beam, a streak of ... of ..." He hesitated, the smile fading. "Of darkness." A frown passed over his face. "Maybe ... maybe it was a dream."

* * *

He turned away from Reginald, kneeling down beside Morgana. "Morg?"

"You were very convinced a moment ago." Reginald stood beside him, curious, tuning once again into Darkwing's wavelength.  
Darkwing kept his eyes on the sleeping witch … on his sleeping witch. 'I'm getting too far ahead of myself. There are too many things and too much time. And then there are alternate universes, time paradoxes, causal loops ...'  
"Don't you ever rest?" Reginald interrupted. "Slow down! Take a break. Eat some frozen yoghurt. Do anything, just ... relax!"

'Crime doesn't rest. Crime doesn't take a break. Frozen yoghurt, huh? He's been keeping that a secret from me.' Reginald was a little taken aback. He couldn't fault Darkwing really. How could he have ever known that someone in his life paid so much attention to him, even if they were his enemy?

Darkwing stood up and went over to Launchpad. "Launchpad? Launchpad!" 'This is incredibly annoying! I'm being toyed with; a game. Why is this familiar?' An image floated into Darkwing's mind: a savage pack of vampires, aggressive, attacking. They brought down a beast that towered over them.  
Reginald hid his face, feeling himself shaking. The replay ended. "Vampires." And Darkwing didn't know it, but the comparison to Raya and Simon was pretty exact.  
"Yep." Darkwing sighed. 'A rock and a hard place.'

* * *

There was a groan from Morgana.

"Morgana, honey-wumpus, are you alright?"  
"Where's Tula?" She stood up.  
"She ran off."  
"Oh, yes, now I remember. I stopped her nasty room from killing us all ... um ... didn't I?"

Once again, Darkwing's need to get details correct was clear to Reginald as he considered Morgana's words. 'You? It was she that did it. But she made you forget on purpose.' He glanced over at Reginald, before shrugging; 'it has to make sense somehow, and this is the way Raya wants it. It could be damaging, to us, to the space time continuum; she's right.'

* * *

"Ungh."

Darkwing jumped across the room to help Launchpad up.  
"I feel like I got hit with a ton of pillows."  
"You're not the only one. It must have been a spell or something so ... 'she' could escape."  
"Why a sleeping spell?" Morgana frowned.

"That doesn't make sense."  
Darkwing turned back to Morgana. "I think it's safe to say that Tula is capable of acts that defy a rational person's comprehension."  
Reginald felt his leaves curling. Darkwing was lying between his sentences! Deception, misdirection! Wholesale!  
"So, Tula hopefully won't be back for a long while?" Launchpad asked for confirmation.

"She had a very big scare. It must have been the counterspell or something. I don't think she was ready for whatever it was that surprised her."

"Yes. I'm glad that's sorted out. Let's go home." Morgana created another glimmering portal and Reginald didn't hesitate to follow the others through this one.

* * *

They were now standing back in Reginald's greenhouse. A feeling of comfort came over him. What a relief to be back! He looked around. "Hold on ..."

He looked up at the ceiling. All the glass was back in the panes, it was as if Tula had never smashed them open. "The roof! I have a roof again!"  
"I don't know what you're talking about, Bushroot." Morgana shook her head. "Anyway, it's getting early." She yawned. "Time for bed."

"Thank you, Morgana."  
"Of course, Dark, darling. All you ever have to do is ask." Reginald watched her trace her fingers across Darkwing's front before turning towards the door. "Are you coming, my little honey-wumpus?"

"I'll just be a minute ... Morg."

Reginald turned his head back to Darkwing. "I take it back. Your puns and poetry are only mildly annoying. That ..." He pointed as the door swung shut, "is ... is obnoxious!" He took a deep breath. More to the point it simply was not fair!

"Calm down, Bushy." Darkwing put his hands up in front of him. Then he backed up and crossed to the next aisle of plants for a moment before returning. "Here." He handed him a small tub of frozen yoghurt. "Have some of this before it melts."

"Where ... where did this come from?" Reginald took it in his leafy hands.

"It was sitting beside your _Portlandia Grandiflora_. I expect that whoever fixed your roof left it behind too." Darkwing made towards the entrance. "Goodnight, Bushroot. Reginald. Doctor. I wish ..." He shook his head. "From the heart, you know I mean it. I wish you'd stay out of trouble." He shook his head, turned the door handle and exited.

* * *

"How would you know that it's called that?" Reginald moved towards the tiny sapling that he'd been carefully cultivating for months, looking suspiciously at it; looking, as Darkwing would have looked: for more clues. Actually, it looked a little taller, and it was flowering. The smell of creamy chocolate drifted in the air. He'd put tarp over it before going out that evening. Where was that tarp now? It was back in the kitchenette? If that wasn't evidence, Reginald didn't know what was.

'Everybody loves me, I feel so happy! What lovely attention I've been getting, I'm just so happy!'

"Oh, good, that's ... that's good, Bell." He smiled at the plant, and then it dawned on him that they'd spoilt him with some attention too. He looked down at the confection in his hands.

"I love frozen yoghurt!" He laughed as he opened it up.


End file.
